


Stupid

by Ally_Oop



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur Finds Out About Merlin’s Magic (Merlin), Attempt at Humor, Banter, M/M, POV Merlin (Merlin), Protective Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Some Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:48:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23597854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ally_Oop/pseuds/Ally_Oop
Summary: When Arthur makes one too many stupid decisions, Merlin is forced to save him once again. But with an overconfident prince and a secret sorcerer, something has got to give.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 239





	Stupid

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic! Please be nice! Thank you for reading!!! Also if you have any suggestions for some cute lil merthur stories send them my way! I’m stuck in the house and I love these idiots

Arthur was being an idiot. This wasn’t to say that he was normally not an idiot, just that today that fact was of particular annoyance to Merlin. It was especially annoying given that he had put so much effort into being agreeable today. When Arthur had said they were setting out to find some magical creature and slay it, he had said Okay. When Arthur insisted they don’t bring horses as it wasn’t that far away, he’d said Of course. When Arthur said that Merlin shouldn’t come as it was too dangerous he had told him there was no chance in Hell. And finally, when they stopped in what appeared to be an abandoned castle ruin to make camp for the night, Merlin had objected.  
He had noted that the ruin wasn’t in that bad of a state, and perhaps wasn’t old enough to be considered a lost cause by whosoever it belonged to, which earned him a derisive laugh and a cuff over the head. As usual, he’d been dismissed as paranoid. Merlin rather hoped they would be attacked, just to see Arthur squirm under his bad judgement, but after realizing this would mean another near miss and more saving Arthur’s life with no thanks, he retracted his thought. However, when the sounds of yelling from outside the crumbling walls woke him from a restless sleep, he cursed himself for ever figuratively opening his mouth.  
A quick glance around him told Merlin that Arthur was gone. Brilliant. Just what he needed. With my luck, he thought, he’ll be already surrounded by the time I get down there. Arthur would be fine. It was Arthur! Big, strong, infallible, Arthur. Surely anything he could get himself into, he could get himself out of just as easily. Despite his attempts to tell himself this, he couldn’t help but rush down the steps and nearly slipped on the rain slick stone in the process. Arthur really couldn’t have found someplace with a roof, could he? But oh, Merlin, it’s the perfect camp, Merlin, there’s so much cover, Merlin, you’re acting like a girl, Merlin!  
His bitter thoughts were interrupted when he slammed right into a very solid wall. The very solid wall turned around and nearly laughed at him.  
“Rough morning, Merlin?” Gwaine grinned at him.  
“Arthur.” Was the reply.  
Gwaine raised his eyebrows. “All business today, that’s unusual for you.”  
“What’s he doing?” Merlin growled. If Arthur was about to get himself killed he really wasn’t in the mood for small talk. Gwaine, seemingly understanding this, gestured outside and shrugged.  
“Well, he’s got it into his head that he can talk them down peacefully. He told us to stay hidden unless absolutely necessary; left that bit up to our judgement, of course. He’s not been impaled yet so I reckon something is going right.” Gwaine guided Merlin to stand in his spot, and peek through a hole that was probably created by some natural wear and tear on the walls.  
“Oh, you’ve actually got to be kidding me,” Merlin groaned. Arthur was standing, chest puffed out like a bullfrog and hands on his hips, in the center of a circle of darkly clad bandits, none of whom seemed to be exactly trembling with fear. Arthur was speaking at the top of his lungs, announcing his title and exactly what punishment the soldiers could expect should they harm him. The leader, Merlin decided, was the one who stood directly in front of Arthur, a hand laying relaxed on his sword and his helmet under his other arm.  
Merlin, arguably, knew Arthur better than anyone, and he could tell by the way he titled his chin up slightly and the staccato tone of his voice that he was convinced he was intimidating them. They weren’t scared of him at all; they simply found him amusing. That much was obvious to anyone save for Arthur himself, who could barely help smirking every now and then amidst his speech.  
“The prat’s gonna get himself killed,” he whispered, mostly to himself.  
Arthur was still going, and Merlin wondered if he knew what he looked like sometimes. Yes, when in combat and not thinking about the perception of others he came off intimidating and very commanding, though Merlin would never admit that to him. But when he was actively trying to get people to listen to him and was this hyper-focusing on his mannerisms, he ended up being far less intimidating.  
“All he’s got are puppy dog eyes and a nice smile,” Merlin groaned. “They’re not scared of him, they’re thinking about how much he’s worth. Has he gone mad?” Gwaine snickered slightly, prompting a murderous look from Merlin.  
The leader’s head was cocked slightly, as if he didn’t quite believe what he was seeing. Merlin sympathized with him, on that front.  
“He fancies himself a diplomat, now?” Merlin spun around angrily to face Gwaine, who offered nothing more than an apologetic shrug in return. The other knights were crouching behind the walls and watching, some of them doubled over in silent laughter. Merlin was fuming.  
“I’m sure you’ll all be laughing much harder when word gets out that the future king died on our watch, yeah?” He addressed the knights, who ignored Merlin’s tone and kept on giggling.  
How could you let him go out alone?” Merlin demanded. “You’re his knights!”  
“He ordered us.” Gwaine insisted. “Said there was a better chance of them leaving us all alone if they thought Arthur was alone.”  
Merlin buried his head in his hands, and screamed as loud as he could internally. Arthur literally, genuinely, indefinitely, was the dumbest person he’d ever met. Not quite so unforgivable as the knights however. Arthur was in obvious danger and they were laughing. On any other given day I might laugh too, he thought for a moment. But he’s out there alone. Surely they recognized the difference in situation?  
“Right. I’m going out there.” Merlin spun on his heel and made for the opening in the wall but was roughly pulled back by a hand on his shoulder.  
“Merlin, I get that you want to protect him but he has this under control.” Gwaine smiled. “It’s Arthur; he’ll be okay. You needn’t always be so worried about him.”  
Needn’t be worried? The only reason Arthur was alive at all was because Merlin worried. Hell, he’d let his guard down for one second and now Arthur was surrounded and alone. The fact that Arthur didn’t wake him up left a sudden bitter taste in his mouth. Did he think Merlin couldn’t help? Arthur joked about how useless he was often but he hadn’t taken any of it to be serious, the same way Arthur joked about hating him even though it wasn’t serious. Unless Arthur thought it was. He knew he didn’t hate Arthur, but did he know that?  
“You’re all as stupid as he is if you think Arthur has any chance of not getting stabbed at this rate.” Merlin hissed savagely, wrenching his arm free. He wasn’t letting Arthur die at the expense of his pride. He ducked under the hole in the wall and strode out, hands in the air so they wouldn’t just attack him on sight. Arthur noticed the sudden lack of attention he was getting and looked around wildly for the source, and upon seeing Merlin his blue eyes seemed to glow red with anger.  
“Merlin-!” He whisper yelled. Merlin gave the most sarcastic wave he could muster. That was evidently not what the prince had expected, and his face grew even redder. The bandit leader was incredibly close to laughing.  
Walking toward the circle deliberately, Merlin patted the shoulder of a bandit and whispered a small apology as he squeezed past him and into the circle. The bandit in question gave a confused look to the leader, as he was evidently not used to being treated so civil by someone all logic told him should already be dead for daring to come near him. The leader simply shrugged with a very amused look on his face. Arthur coughed.  
“Uh, we mean you no-!” Merlin elbowed him hard in the ribs, and Arthur’s jaw snapped shut as if he really had been stabbed. Merlin didn’t even have to look at Arthur to know he was glaring intently up at him, scrunching his eyebrows into that ridiculous pouty face.  
Merlin had the inkling of an idea forming. It was an idea that Arthur would hate, which made it even more attractive. He did, admittedly, hope Arthur would understand later. Trying his best to look as if this was something he did every day, Merlin clasped an arm around Arthur’s shoulder and smiled at the bandit leader. Arthur stiffened under his touch, obviously furious.  
“Play along,” Merlin hissed out of the corner of his mouth. Arthur didn’t respond, but looked for all the world like a surly teenager as he stared ahead, avoiding anyone’s eyes. Silent treatment, then, Merlin thought. He’s finally shut up.  
Merlin was acutely aware of just how much he was overstepping his boundaries as far as the ‘Prince and his servant’ dynamic was intended to go, but Arthur’s life was very much on the line and Merlin wasn’t dwelling too much on formalities.  
“You’ll have to excuse my friend here, gentlemen.” Merlin began easily.  
“Your friend?” The bandit leader asked, voice dripping with derision. “He doesn’t seem to enjoy your company very much.”  
Merlin clasped a hand to his chest and laughed. “Oh, you’ve no idea sir. You see, Arthur here isn’t the crown prince, he was just named after the true Prince Arthur.” At this, Arthur’s head shot up and he tried to wrestle himself out of Merlin’s grasp.  
“Merlin-!” Merlin squeezed his shoulder tightly, begging him wordlessly to just stop.  
“He’s horribly simple,” Merlin went on with mock-sadness as the prince slapped at his arm in an attempt to free himself. “He truly does think he’s the prince, it’s the strangest thing. He gets a bit testy when you point out that he isn’t, as you can see.” Merlin laughed and pulled Arthur closer to him. He knew he wasn’t even close to a physical match for Arthur, and wondered vaguely why he hadn’t been thrown on his arse yet. Perhaps there was a brain in that pretty head of his.  
“Your friend is not the prince?” The leader repeated slowly.  
“No, Sir. If this is your property we will gladly leave immediately; we’re just taking him home to Camelot. He got sleepy, the poor thing, and insisted we stop here. He loves castles, bless him.”  
The bandit leader didn’t look convinced, and Merlin began to grow nervous. He really didn’t want to have to fight; he was unarmed and really not in the mood.  
“May I ask why he’s wearing armor, then? And carrying a sword?” The bandit leader’s patience was running thin, Merlin could tell.  
“That is a fantastic question, sir.” Merlin, much to Arthur’s shock and rage, plucked the sword from his scabbard and held it up. Arthur scrambled to reach for it but Merlin held it an arm’s length away, kicking Arthur as a silent plea to keep him quiet. I’m trying to keep you alive, idiot, he thought angrily.  
“It’s a fake, sir. A simple wooden sword that his father covered in steel to give the appearance of a truly real one. It can still do some damage of course, but that’s why I’m here! To keep him from killing himself,” Merlin emphasized the last few words purposely. He slipped the sword back into Arthur’s hand, figuring that if this went South he’d prefer it be there. Arthur’s grip tightened on it reflexively.  
“And as for the armor!” Merlin went on with his fake laughing which he realized in hindsight was probably a bit too far. “This armor is, in fact, the prince’s! But it was given to us by him; Arthur wanted so badly to meet his namesake that one day when the prince went riding by he ran up and introduced himself! And, the prince, in his infinite generosity, gave Arthur his armor as a keepsake. Since then, the poor thing has been convinced that he is the real Arthur. A truly sad case, sir. He’s never taken it off since. He smells quite bad as a result, I’m sure you’ll forgive him that.”  
Arthur was enraged. Merlin could practically feel the heat radiating off of him. Merlin was well aware that he was pushing his luck, but it was too much fun to stop.  
The bandit leader set his jaw and made a motion with his hand. The circle of bandits moved in tighter.  
“Okay, I’ve had quite enough of this.” Arthur finally wrenched himself free and took a step forward. “Arthur-!” Merlin hissed, but the prince held up a hand and addressed the circle with his patented “I’m a Handsome Prince So Listen To Me” smile. Merlin frowned inwardly, Handsome was not usually a part of that insult spiel. He wondered vaguely if he was growing bitter.  
Arthur puffed up his chest again and addressed the crowd like they were his adoring fans. “I am Prince Arthur, the one and only. The simpleton here is not me but my useless manservant, who will pay dearly for this mistake. Gentlemen, I’m sure you all have some sense in your heads if you were wise enough to not believe that imbecile’s ridiculous speech. I’m giving you all one last chance to leave.”  
“Horribly simple,” Merlin cut in, shaking his head sadly. Arthur cuffed him over the head.  
“Oh, he’s lashing out now, he must be getting hungry-!”  
“MERLIN-!”  
The bandit leader forgot all his reservations and began laughing openly. The others chimed in, and Arthur was glowing red with a combination of anger and embarrassment. Merlin could read in the way his grip tightened on his sword handle and the squaring of his shoulders that he was straying far from diplomacy.  
“Arthur-“ Merlin said gently but before he could get any other word in the man had drawn his sword and stepped between Merlin and the bandit leader. He tensed, holding his sword steadily.  
“You think you can take every single one of us on?” The leader slipped his helmet of twisted black metal back on and drew his own sword.  
“You think all of you can take me on?” Arthur shot back, fire in his eyes.  
“Horribly simple-“ Merlin tried in vain to cut back in but was pushed back to his spot behind Arthur.  
“How quaint. You’re protecting him.” The leader glanced behind Arthur. “Grab him.”  
Merlin yelped as two sets of hands roughly grabbed his shoulders and yanked him to the perimeter of the circle. A cold steel dagger was placed against his throat. Well, he thought. This is truly unfortunate.  
Arthur whipped around to face them, and his face drained of color. His wild blue eyes were darting around the circle like a cornered animal. He’s gone from fight to flight, Merlin thought dejectedly. Perhaps I shouldn’t have said he smelled. The blue eyes landed on Merlin, who smiled weakly. Sorry, he mouthed. Arthur seemed even more upset by this, and faced the leader once again.  
His hands shook imperceptibly; had Merlin not known him for years it would’ve gone unnoticed. Was Arthur scared? Arthur, the man he’d watched plod valiantly and stupidly through life as if everything would work out simply because he was the crown prince, was scared. Why? There was no difference to this situation than the ones they’d been in before, save the fact that Merlin generally wasn’t quite this close to being gut like a fish. Probably worried he’ll have to dress himself tomorrow, Merlin thought.  
Arthur struck the first blow. Merlin noted with a growing unease that the bandits were all excellent swordsmen. Arthur was, of course, better than any one of them, but all 14 of them was a different matter. He was holding his own but there was an unusual lack of grace in his movements; blows kept on nearly landing and he kept on barely parrying blows from all sides.  
The magic began crackling within Merlin, begging him to step in. Not yet, not yet, not yet, not yet... He looked around wildly for any fallen sticks or roots or anything he could move inconspicuously to help but the field was all tall grass. The magic roared in his ears, but he held it back. Not yet. Only as a last resort.  
Arthur was growing tired, growing sloppy. Merlin wondered with white hot rage why the knights didn’t step in. They were watching their crown prince being flanked by over a dozen men. They’d been with Arthur for so long that surely they knew that he was scared and surely they knew that- and then it hit him. They’d never seen Arthur fail. Every time he’d even come close Merlin had been there to step in. Merlin was the only one who had ever seen Arthur vulnerable in any way. The knights had ultimate faith in Arthur, and he in himself. It was partly Merlin’s fault the prat was so overly confident; he’d never had a reason to doubt himself. But now it was showing on his face, and Merlin couldn’t bear to watch.  
The magic grew even louder, and the clashing of swords and armor and yelling rose with it until it was all a horrible crescendo begging Merlin to just fix it. He gritted his teeth against it and fought the urge until one single voice stuck out amongst the clamor. 

“Merlin-!” 

He let go.  
The air filled with blue light and all sound was sucked from the space for a half second, the unbearable noise became an unbearable lack of it. Then, the bubble broke, and an ear shattering explosion rang out through the field, echoing all the way down through the forests and faraway mountains and leaving a horrible ringing in Merlin’s ears.  
He felt the force blow the two men holding him backwards impossibly fast, leaving him standing in the same spot, a thin cut on his neck from where the dagger had been whisked away. He really was quite lucky he hadn’t accidentally cut his own throat. However, he thought, there was no guarantee Arthur wouldn’t do the same now.  
The force caused the ruins to come tumbling down, covering the knights only in nonlethal bits of rubble as the roofs were nonexistent. Merlin didn’t know if they’d seen, didn’t know if anyone had seen. He stumbled forward, exhaustion gripping him, and saw Arthur.  
He stood in the center of the ring of bandit bodies that were all twisted at odd angles, some smoking. His face was hardened into a stoic glare but his eyes gave away his shock and betrayal. There was also, Merlin noted with increasing unease, a hint of fear. Arthur was staring straight at Merlin, hands trembling openly. His grip tightened on his sword, and anger seized Merlin. He’d just saved his life, and he was going to kill Merlin in return. He really was stupid. God, why did I ever trust him? Merlin thought wildly, staggering to his feet. Why did I ever think he’d be different? The prince took a few steps toward Merlin, sword hanging heavy in his hand.  
“Do it then!” Merlin roared and took a few steps himself, nausea seizing him. He felt impossibly lightheaded. “I saved your life and I’ve been saving it for years! If I wanted to hurt you or anyone around you why wouldn’t I have done it by now? Huh?” Arthur still advanced slowly, not meeting Merlin’s eyes. This angered him even more, and he started yelling at the top of his lungs.  
“I just saved your life! Again! If you want to repay me by cutting my bloody head off then go ahead! I’m not stopping you.” The second the final words left his mouth his vision began to fade, dark spots creeping in at the edges of his line of sight. He could see the blurry outline of the prince walking towards him even quicker now. I’m going to die, he thought. This is it. He’s going to kill me. Then his knees buckled, and he sank down. He gripped the grass in front of him as tight as he could, trying to ground himself.  
He felt Arthur’s presence but didn’t look up just yet.  
“Go on, then.” Merlin laughed humorlessly. “Kill me for saving your life.”  
He looked up and directly into Arthur’s eyes, which were swimming with emotion. He’s conflicted, Merlin thought bitterly. That means part of him is considering it. Tears spewing to Merlin’s eyes but he fought them back.  
“Arthur, whenever I’ve used it, it’s been for you. You have to understand that. Every time you’ve had a near miss? Every time your opponent miraculously tripped or their sword flew out of their hand? That was me, Arthur.” Merlin’s tone went from anger to desperation. “I would never hurt you.”  
Arthur’s eyes were misty with emotion, and the sword hung limply by his side. Merlin wished he’d say something.  
“Look if y-“ his voice caught as he himself choked up. “If you want to kill me, go ahead. I’m not going to stop you. I wanted to tell you, I promise I did, but-“ Merlin broke eye contact and leaned his head forward, offering his neck to the prince.  
“Arthur, I care a Hell of a lot about you. Against my own will, honestly. If I’d have been exposed and executed, I couldn’t have been there with you when you needed me. I’m sorry to even put you in this position but you gave me no choice.”  
Merlin was breathing exceptionally heavily, trying to calm himself down. He felt Arthur move slightly, but he didn’t look up.  
“I know you have a duty to your father and your throne. It’s okay.” He said quietly. He squeezed his eyes shut, and waited for the blow.  
Instead however, Merlin felt a rush of air as Arthur sank to his knees in front of him. He felt a gentle hand on his jaw, and his eyes were lifted to meet Arthur’s. Tears were streaming down his face. The sword fell to the earth with a dull thud, and Arthur moved his hands to Merlin’s shoulders. He held his breath. Then, Arthur had pulled Merlin forward and was hugging him so tightly he could barely breathe.  
“I will not lose you to a law.” Arthur whispered fiercely. Merlin nodded, allowing the tears to come at last. They remained there for what seemed like hours before Arthur helped him steadily to his feet. He placed a hand on Merlin’s shoulder and squeezed it gently.  
“Strange bit of lightning that was, huh?”  
Merlin laughed, and wiped his eyes.  
“Yeah, s’pose it was.”


End file.
